


Superunknown

by xRabbitx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bromance to Romance, Garage Band AU, It's a feelgood fic though!, M/M, Misgendering, Rom-com, Slice of Life, Trans Character, Trans Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Trans Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Transphobia, Use of dead name, Use of transphobic slur, bottom mako, mentioned transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-06 23:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11046606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRabbitx/pseuds/xRabbitx
Summary: Mako comes across an ad for a band looking for a drummer, and he decides to check it out, thinking it might be fun. When he meets the eccentric lead guitarist Jamie Fawkes, though, Mako quickly realizes that this isn't quite your average alt rock band.





	1. Charlie Big Potato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hi, and welcome to my roadrat band AU. The entire idea was spawned when I saw [this gorgeous piece by moetshander](http://moetshander.tumblr.com/post/158829458763), so I dedicate this fic to them. The fic is also an ode to 90s and early 00s alt rock, because that was the music I grew up with.  
> I'll try to update on a relatively regular basis, but since I'm currently suffering from writer's block, I can't make any promises. I hope you'll stick around anyway, though!
> 
> Also, when I started writing this fic, Chris Cornell had just died, so I decided to name the fic after one of Soundgarden's best albums "Superunknown" since it fit very well with the overall theme of the fic.
> 
> Thank you :)

*

 

** DRUMMR WANTED **

** mad cunt on drums wnated for alt rock **

** band // _no ferals!!!_ // dux band looking!! **

** 90s alt rock inspo **

** // SERIOUS RESPONSES ONLY // **

** Jamison Fawkes @ 04 7267 5026 // suckmyfreckle8@gmail.com **

 

Mako had actually decided to ignore the ad, and he had even folded the newspaper and put it down on the table and turned his attention back to his coffee. But by some ridiculous and absurd coincidence, the radio starts playing Tracy Bonham with “Mother, Mother” and the song gets Mako so fired up and he just can’t help grabbing his phone and punching in the number from the ad. He stares at it for a second, then hits ‘call’ before he can regret it. The rings, and rings, and rings, until a slightly raspy voice says, “Hi, this is Jamie”.

            “Hi, uh, I’m calling ab—”

            “…’s voicemail! Haha, leave us a message, yeah? Hooroo!”

            Mako almost crushes his phone in his fist; he _hates_ those stupid fucking prank voicemail greetings, and he’s more tempted to hang up. But this guy, Jamison or Jamie, would be able to see his number and maybe call him back, and that would be awkward. So Mako sighs and waits for the beep.

            “Yeah, I’m calling about the ad for a drummer. Got 25 years of experience, looking for a new band. Favorite bands are Rammstein, Skunk Anansie, and Deftones. Let me know if you’re interested. Bye.”

            See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Mako grunts and rubs over his face; the guy sounded pretty young, and he probably only wants young people in his band. It’s been a long time since Mako was young, and even if the guy calls him back, which he probably won’t, it will only be to tell him no. Yep! There is he, calling Mako to let him down.

            “Yeah.”

            “Hey, mate, you called ‘bout the ad, right?”

            “Yeah.”

            “You any good?”

            “Uh…”

            “On the drums, I mean.”

            “Yes. I’ve been playing for 25 years.”

            “Well, I’ll be stuffed! That’s a long time!”

            “I already told you this on the voicemail I left.”

            “Oh, I only listened to the first bit. Got excited and called you!”

            “Oh, uh, okay.”

            “So, where’d you wanna meet up? My place or yours?”

            “Meet up?”

            “Yeah, gotta see what you can do, right? I’ll bring me guitar, too! A jamming session.”

            “It’s just you?”

            “Whaddaya mean?”

            “I just thought the ad said ‘band’.”

            “A band can be one person!”

            “Pretty sure it can’t.”

            “Alright, it’s me _and_ me tits. Happy?”

            Mako couldn’t help but snort at that retort. This kid had some spirit in him.

            “Yes, very.”

            “So your place or mine, eh?”

            “I don’t really have room for—”

            “Ah, no problem! I have a garage that’s big enough. Got a drum set, too.”

            “You have a full drum set?”

            “Yep.”

            “Okay, give me your address.”

            Jamie, as the kid apparently likes to be called, gives Mako his address, and they agree to meet up the next day. Mako is already regretting it by the time he hangs up the phone, but it would be too stupid to chicken out and cancel less than a minute after the deal was made. It doesn’t really help, however, when Mako realizes that this kid lives in a part of town that Mako isn’t really that familiar with. He hasn’t been in Adelaide for long, and there are still plenty of places he hasn’t visited yet.

            The next day, however, Mako realizes that he could probably have lived in Adelaide for the rest of his life, and he would never visit this part of town anyway; it is probably the poshest place he has ever visited, and he can’t help but feel horrible out of place in his old jeans, creased t-shirt, and ratty, old leather vest. Everything here seems to be measure by the millimeter. All houses are gigantic, white boxes with glass and steel facades, trees and bushes that look like they’re made of plastic (Mako actually checks to make sure that they’re real), and there’s not a single stray leaf or branch anywhere. Most of the driveways are empty, but the ones that aren’t house cars that probably are so expensive that Mako could work from now till the day he dies, he would still never be able to afford any of them.

            He checks the note he scribbled down while one the phone with Jamie yesterday, and well, it is the right street. Unless Jamie is playing a prank on him, of course. But why would he do that? Seems it would just be a waste of everyone’s time. Still, to think that a young lad would be living in a neighborhood like this…? It seems unlikely, unless of course he lives at home? Mako groans and pushes his sunglasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose; that’s it, of course. Jamie still lives at home, and damn it, Mako just isn’t sure he can deal with some bludger living in his mum’s basement and probably spends his days smoking pot and plucking at some guitar strings all day.

            Mako pauses outside number 79, looks up, then looks back at his note. This is the right address, but honestly, it can’t be. Just like the rest of the houses on this street, it’s huge (at least four bedrooms), and it looks more like something out of a 60s sci-fi movie than an actual house. Everything is straight lines and concrete—well, except the pickup truck in the driveway. It’s brown and looks battered and old with scratches in the paint and some faded, peeling old stickers on its back. The license plate says “M4DC0NT”, and if Mako rolls his eyes any harder, they will fall out of his head.

            There is no way this is the right place, Mako thinks even as he climbs the stairs to the front door. It’s made of matted glass, and there is no nameplate or anything to indicate who lives here. Mako sighs, then rings the buzzer. He can hear the loud, obnoxious noise inside the house, and for a while, nothing happens. Mako is just about to turn and leave when he sees movement behind the frosted glass, and a second later the door is opened.

            Jamie Fawkes looks both exactly as Mako had expected and nothing like he had expected. He’s tall—almost as tall as Mako, actually—skinny and so pale he’s almost translucent. His hair and bushy eyebrows are dirty blond, and his cheeks and forehead are covered in light brown freckles. There’s a set of black-rimmed glasses on his pointy nose, and the lenses enlarge his eyes, making the irises’ strange golden-brown color stand out even more. When his lips spread in a wide grin, Mako can clearly see a gap between his front teeth. Jamie Fawkes is probably one of the weirdest looking people Mako has even seen in real life, and yet there’s something about him that Mako instantly likes. Maybe it’s the too-big tank top he’s wearing with armholes dropped so low, they leave little to the imagination, and the _PIXIES_ printed on the front in big, black letters. Or maybe it’s the ripped jeans or just the general weirdness about him.

            “Holy dooley! If you ain’t the biggest bugger I’ve ever seen!” is the very first thing out of Jamie’s mouth as he gazes up at Mako with wide eyes and an open mouth stretched in a wide grin. “How’d ya get that big?”

            “Uh, you Jamie?” Mako asks, not really sure how to answer the question.

            “Yeah, I’m Jamie,” Jamie says and holds out his hand so Mako can shake it. His nails are covered in peeling black nail polish.

            “Mako,” Mako says, taking Jamie’s hand and shaking it.

            “Mako? Ace name! Maori, yeah?” Jamie asks him, shaking Mako’s hand very enthusiastically.

            “Yeah,” Mako grunts, awkwardly pulling his hand away. “Do you actually live here?”

            “Oh, yeah!” Jamie beams at him. “Bonzer, eh? Come in!”

            He steps aside and Mako steps inside. The hall he’s in is bare and white with a dark tile floor. It feels cool and not very welcoming, and it’s hard for him to imagine someone like Jamie living in a place like that, but maybe if this is his parents’ house, Jamie’s room might look a lot different.

            “Want something to drink?” Jamie asks Mako as he leads his down the hall. They turn a corner, and Mako forgets everything about answering Jamie’s question; they’re in a huge room that looks like it should double as both general living room, dining room, and kitchen. The kitchen is tucked away in a corner behind a half-wall. It looks like very new, all smooth, shining steel and polished, black marble surfaces. All the shelves are empty except for a giant box of coffee. No vegetables, no pasta, no Tupperware, no nothing. In fact, the entire room is pretty much empty; there’s a long table and two chairs in what looks like the dining area, but they look unused. In the living room, the only things that occupy the space are a huge flat screen TV, a bean bag chair, and every gaming console known to man as well as three very tall towers of stacked games. There’s an old pizza box next to the TV. But all these things aren’t what make Mako speechless. No, the thing that immediately draws his attention is the view. The entire left wall of the large room is made of glass, and through it, Mako can see not only a gigantic deck with a pool and hot tub, but also the bright and blue sea stretching out as far as he can see. He hadn’t even noticed this when he had driven here, but Jamie seems to be living more or less right on the beach! A sliding door in the glass wall is open, and all the sounds and smells of the fresh ocean are streaming into the room.

            “No?”

            “Huh?” Mako blinks, snaps out of it and turns to look at Jamie.

            “No drink?”

            “Oh, uh, no, I’d like a drink.”

            Jamie beams at him and skips over to the kitchen area to open the fridge.

            “Help yourself,” he says, and Mako comes over to see that the fridge is stuffed with pretty much any kind of drink you could want; there’s several kinds of sodas, beers, energy drinks, coffee drinks, and even a couple of bottle of what looks to be very expensive champagne. Mako is slightly overwhelmed with the many options, so he settles for an orange soda and opens the can to take a sip, turning to admire the view once more.

            “Pretty great, eh?” Jamie says, opening a beer for himself before gesturing at the view. “Probably the main reason I got this place.”

            “You—you _own_ this house?” Mako is stunned.

            “Yeah! What, you thought I was squatting here?” Jamie laughs. His laugh is high-pitched and sounds a little manic in a non-scary way.

            “No, I—well, I thought maybe you lived with your parents,” Mako admits, and he honestly doesn’t think it’s such a weird assumption given the fact that Jamie can’t possibly be older than 30.

            “Pffff,” Jamie huffs and grins at him. “Like some kinda dipstick? Listen, mate, I’m 25! Of course I don’t bloody live with me parents.”

            Mako can’t help but feel a little offended at Jamie’s amusement. As if 25-year-olds normally live in giant houses on the beach. Jamie’s the weird one here, not Mako! But Mako can’t really get himself to ask how the hell Jamie can afford a house like this, because they’ve only known each other for about five minutes, and it’s really none of Mako’s business either. But it turns out Mako doesn’t have to ask, because Jamie is already way ahead of him.

            “Nah, I’m only taking the piss, mate,” he snickers. “I mean, I do live here, but I know it’s not exactly normal. Thing is, I invented this little chip that goes inside your phone, your laptop, all your computer, basically. Okay, I didn’t really _invent_ it, but I improved the existing model a lot, and then I sold it to Apple.”

            “You’re—you sold it?” Mako isn’t actually sure whether or not he’s dreaming this, because it’s just too absurd.

            “Right’o,” Jamie grins. “I tried staying in the tech business, but it got boring, so I left.”

            “You left?”

            “Yup! It’s full of bleeding suits, anyways. I fucking hate suits. Figured since I had conquered the tech business, I should try and conquer something else, and, y’know, I’ve always loved music, so…” He winks at Mako.

            “Huh. Wow.”

            Jamie just downs his beer in three large gulps, then tosses the can in the bin before getting another one.

            “Anyway, let’s get to it, mate! I’m dying to see what you can do.”

            Mako is still too dumbstruck about the whole thing to really respond, but he follows Jamie out of the kitchen and back into the hall. Jamie leads him down a flight of stairs, and then they’re suddenly in the garage, which must be located under the house. It’s huge, just like the house itself, and in one end, it looks like a workshop with a lot of tools and computers, but on the opposite end—the one he and Jamie are standing in right now—it looks like the music area. The concrete floor is covered by a large rug, and there’s a setup with drums and at least five different electric guitars. There’s also a keyboard and a couple of bass guitars, basically everything they’d need to start a band.

            “So,” Jamie says, picking up a guitar and draping the strap over his skinny shoulders. “You gonna impress me, old man?”

            There’s a challenge in his voice, and it shakes Mako out of his gaze. He doesn’t give a shit if this kid is some kind of eccentric millionaire; Mako will show him that he can drum circles around him any day, and he will damn well wipe that confident smirk off Jamie’s lips. Mako huffs and gets behind the drums. They’re top quality, and there’s everything here he could ever dream of. In fact, Mako is pretty sure he was never sat behind a drum set this complete, and it only makes him even more determined to show this runt what he can do.

            “Name a tune,” Mako grunts at him, shifting on the stool and swirling the drumsticks between his fingers to warm them up.

            “Bulls on Parade,” Jamie shoots back without missing a beat. He grins and adjusts his thick glasses. It’s a test, because Rage Against the Machine has a really skilled drummer, but Mako is at least as skilled. It’s pretty perfect, actually, because this will give Mako an opportunity to see if Jamie’s guitar skills are up to par; the less-than-conventional guitar solo in this song isn’t something just any guitarist can do.

            About five minutes later, they’re both drenched in sweat. Mako feels like his face is boiling, and Jamie has gone from pale to lobster red, coughing and giggling as the last tones vibrate through the room. Even though Mako had been fully concentrated on his drums, it had been physically impossible for him not to notice Jamie. The kid had been jumping and raving about with his guitar flying around his neck, and yet, by some miracle, Jamie hadn’t missed a single riff or played a single note wrong. It had been flawless, and Mako is honestly impressed. Jamie seems to be a really skilled guitarist.

            “Well, fuck me!” Jamie grins breathlessly at Mako as he adjusts his crooked and foggy glasses. “That was brilliant, mate! Good on ya! Wanna go again?”

            Mako pushes the stray locks of grey hair away from his sweaty forehead and nods. His pulse is thumping in his ears and his heart is racing; it has been a while since he has felt this lit.

            “More Rage, yeah? Sleep Now In The Fire?”

            Mako simply raises his drumsticks and taps out the rhythm. Jamie follows him into the iconic riff, and they’re both drowned in the sound waves.

            “So?” Mako turns his head to look at Jamie as he passes the blunt back to him four hours later. They’re sitting on the deck, feet bare and submerged in the pool while they stare out at the ocean. The sun is setting left of them, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. Jamie takes the joint—there’s not much left—and takes a drag. They’re both completely spent, and Mako can’t feel his arms right now. It’s been years since he’s played that hard for that long.

            “So what, mate?” Jamie’s eyelids look very heavy.

            “Am I in the band?”

            “Oh!” Jamie starts laughing, but quickly segues into a coughing fit. He hands the blunt back to Mako while wiping mirthful tears away from his eyes with his other hand. “You’re already in the band, mate. How could I say no to a big, handsome lad like you, eh?”

            Mako hasn’t blushed in years, and it’s solely the weed’s fault, he’s sure of that. He hurries to take a puff to distract himself.

            “So it’s just gonna be the two of us?” he asks, stubbing out the sad remains of the joint before leaning back on his elbows. “No bass or keyboard players?”

            Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, we don’t need ‘em. Plenty of successful bands only had two members; The White Stripes, The Black Keys, Simon and Garfunkle.”

            “I’m pretty sure they all had musicians with them, though,” Mako points out. “They were only officially two members, but they had lots of help.”

            “Then we’ll just be better, mate!” Jamie grins and straightens up a little to pluck a beer from the ridiculous inflatable bucket that’s floating around in the pool. “We don’t need any of ‘em.”

            Mako eyes Jamie; they haven’t even known each other for a full day, but Mako is pretty sure there’s something off about this whole thing.

            “Why do you have instruments for a full band when you only want a drummer and a guitarist?” he prods, and he can tell that he’s hit a nerve, because Jamie instantly tenses up. When he doesn’t immediately answer, but instead stares down at his hands in his lap, Mako chickens out. “You don’t have to answer. It doesn’t ma—”

            “They were right cunts,” Jamie mutters and leans back to take another gulp of beer. He sighs. “Alright, full disclosure, yeah? I used to have a band, but the wankers left when… uhm…”

            “When what?” Mako has a hard time imagining why anyone would leave a talented guitarist with his own studio and more instruments you could ever want. Of course, Jamie could have some awful character flaw, but Mako hasn’t seen any indicators of that yet.

            Jamie sucks on his bottom lip for a moment, like he’s considered whether or not he should even tell Mako, and it only makes Mako even more curious about what the hell is going on. Is Jamie indebted to the mob? Does he have a serious drug problem? Is he secretly an axe murderer? The longer Jamie is silent, the more extreme ideas pop up in Mako’s head, and by the time Jamie finally speaks, Mako has him pinned down as the cousin of a crime lord with a price on his head.

            “I’m trans,” Jamie says, turning to look Mako straight in the eye as if daring him to react to it.

            Mako is so surprised by this that he simply blurts out, “What?” like an idiot.

            “I’m trans. You know what that is, right?” Jamie’s face has gone hard, and it looks like he’s expecting Mako to laugh at him or insult him. But Mako does neither; he’s maybe an old fart, but he’s not an asshole.

            “So what?”

            Jamie’s mouth falls slightly open, and he just blinks at Mako for a while before he closes his mouth again and clears his throat.

            “So, uh, they left the band when I came out,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and looking away, clearly not very comfortable talking about this. He huffs a bitter laugh. “Said it was bad enough I was gonna steal all the attention only having one leg, but they didn’t want to be a tranny band.”

            Mako shakes his head. “They’re clearly assholes, and—wait, what? You only have one leg?”

            Jamie arches an eyebrow and looks back at him. Mako looks back, and then his gaze darts to Jamie’s legs. One is half submerged in the glowing pool water, toes wriggling, but the other one has been taken off and is lying next to Jamie on the deck. Mako is mind-blown; has Jamie always had a prosthetic leg? How can he not have noticed this before? And how could Jamie have jumped around and flipped out like he did on the guitar earlier with only one leg? Aren’t people with missing limbs usually confined to wheelchairs or crutches? What the hell was in that joint that Mako missed the fact that his companion _took off his fucking leg?_

            Jamie watches Mako at all these thoughts swirl through his head, and Mako’s general feeling of _What the Fuck Just Happened_ must have been showing on his face, because Jamie doubles over and laughs so hard every inch of his long, skinny body trembles. He even have to put his beer down so he doesn’t drop it into the pool, and his laughter is so infectious that Mako can’t help but chuckle a bit once he has gotten over the initial surprise. They keep laughing for so long that Mako almost forgets what they had been talking about, but Jamie eventually returns to the subject.

            “There’s a Battle of the Bands happening six months from now,” he tells Mako, still clutching his belly from his laughing fit. “Me old band mates’ new band is in it.”

            “So you want to enter and beat them,” Mako hums, sipping a fresh beer.

            Jamie smiles slightly and nods. “Don’t get me wrong, mate; I really want to do this band thing properly, get a label and a record deal, the whole shebang. I’m not just in it for the revenge, but—well,” he grins, “I really, _really_ want to show it to those fuckers.”

            Mako can’t help but smile. He sticks his hand out and when Jamie takes it, Mako squeezes his hand and says, “Deal.”

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now, friends! I hope you liked it :)  
> The songs in this chapter were:
> 
> [Mother Mother by Tracy Bonham](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Xi8NvSetZc)   
>  [Bulls On Parade by Rage Against The Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSoq3ZDTlVc)   
>  [Sleep Now In The Fire by Rage Against The Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w211KOQ5BMI)
> 
> If you want to follow my other fic adventures, you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Territorial Pissings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako and Jamie have decided to make a band together and win a Battle of the Bands against Jamie's old asshole band mates, but when you spend that much time together, it's easy to get distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Yes, it's part 2 of Superunknown! I apologize for the wait between updates. A writer's block is still low-key kicking my ass, but I'm trying to power through it!
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

*

 

Mako had never imagined that he, at the ripe, old age of 48, would befriend a kid almost half his age, and yet, here he is, having what is essentially the time of time life with Jamie. Jamie doesn’t work (he can afford not to), and Mako only has his part-time gig at the second hand record shop to take care of, and whenever Mako isn’t working, he’s over at Jamie’s house, playing till his hands blister. They start out doing cover upon cover to get a feel for each other’s rhythm and timing, but it doesn’t take very long before they veer into improvisation and jamming sessions. Mako will beat out a rhythm, and Jamie will improvise over it until they find a sound, a melody that they both like. Mako has never learned to write notes, but Jamie is of course fluent both in reading and writing notes, so it quickly becomes his job to write down the stuff they like. There are no lyrics yet, but that doesn’t matter. They’re still finding their sound as Jamie puts it, and for now, they’re just fucking around and having fun. In fact, Mako is having more fun with Jamie than he can remember having had in years and years. He finds himself spending less and less time in the tiny and shitty apartment he’s renting and more and more time at Jamie’s. It’s happened more than once that Mako has spent the night in one of the many rooms in the house, because they have jammed too far into the night and Mako has to get up early for work. It’s not that they live super far from each other, but Mako doesn’t have a car, and the public transportation system isn’t exactly the best and fastest here. Jamie has offered to drive Mako, but more often than not, Jamie is stoned or two beers passed being able to drive, so it never really happens.

            “What should we call the band?” Jamie asks Mako one afternoon a few months after their first meeting. They’re sitting in the sun on the deck, eating lunch. Jamie hadn’t been super keen on straying from his usual diet of pizza and beer, but Mako had forced him to try something new. After a couple of bites, Jamie had grudgingly admitted that yes, poke bowls are delicious, especially when there’s lots of spicy mayo.

            “Dunno,” Mako says around a mouthful of tuna and shrugs. “You should decide. It’s your band.”

            “Whaddya mean, it’s my band?” Jamie snorts and puts his bowl and chopsticks down to slam his fist against Mako’s massive shoulder. “It’s your band, too, mate.”

            “But you’re the one who—” Mako begins, but Jamie cuts him off.

            “I don’t give a rat’s arse who did what first. We’re co-founders, you and me, okay?” Jamie grins at Mako and lifts his soda. “Yeah?”

            “Yeah,” Mako grunts and he clinks his soda can against Jamie’s, unable to keep himself from smiling a little bit. “So what should the band name be?”

            “The Cockheads?” Jamie suggests, then laughs. “I dunno, mate. I’m shit at names. It’s gotta be something cool. Something that says it all, y’know?”

            “Or maybe something that says nothing?” Mako suggests after swallowing down another mouthful of rice and fish. “How about…?” Mako looks around, but all he can see is the ocean in front of him. “The Fish… The Fish Sticks!”

            Jamie had just taken a gulp of soda when Mako suggests this, and he splutters with laughter, spraying himself and Mako, who’s sitting in front of him, with sticky, acid yellow liquid.

            “That’s—that’s the best bloody name I ever heard!” he gasps, hurrying to put the soda down. “Fuck, mate, that’s our name right there!” Still laughing and hiccupping, Jamie pushes to his feet and pulls his too-large tank top over his head. He leans over the table to try and dry the soda off Mako’s face. He grins apologetically at Mako. “Sorry, mate.”

            Mako isn’t saying anything, and he’s not entirely sure why. Normally he would be pissed to be drenched, but he isn’t; no, he’s just watching Jamie, his crooked glasses and his gap-toothed grin, and he’s not at all okay with how close Jamie is to him right now. It’s not that Mako hasn’t realized that Jamie is totally his type with being his type at all, because he has, but it never really occurred to his conscious mind until right this moment. So maybe he hasn’t actually realized it until now? It’s all very confusing, and Mako can’t deal with it right now.

            “Uh,” he says like a complete idiot. “Guess we found a name then.” He pushes Jamie’s hand away and gets up to lift his own t-shirt and wipe his face. It’s not that Jamie’s shirt isn’t doing the job, but Mako can’t really have Jamie’s scent shoved into his face right now. It’s not until Jamie goes quiet, which he never really does, that it occurs to Mako that he is currently putting his big belly and, more importantly, his chest on display. He looks up, and sure enough, Jamie is staring right at his chest and the faint scars still visible as pale lines under his pectoral muscles. Jamie just keeps staring, and it’s not until Mako lowers his shirt that Jamie finally snaps out of what looks like some kind of trance.

            “Why didn’t you tell me, you massive cock!?” Jamie’s face is twisted in a very strange mix of outrage and amusement, and he looks like he doesn’t know if he wants to punch or pet Mako. It’s all very confusing.

            “Tell you what?” Mako is being deliberately stupid to buy himself a few seconds.

            “You know exactly what!” Jamie yells, half-laughing. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re trans?! I was baring my bloody soul for ya, mate, and you didn’t say nothing?”

            “I got distracted by your leg, okay?” Mako argues even though he knows how ridiculous that sounds. “And—and I just forgot.”

            “You _forgot?_ ” Jamie laughs. “How can you just forget?”

            “I don’t think about this shit a lot, okay? Don’t you ever forget that you used to be different?”

            “Huh.” Jamie seems to calm down a bit as he scratches his chin. “I reckon I do sometimes, yeah.”

            “Alright, so just give it a bleeding rest, yeah? I didn’t mean to keep it secret from you. Why is it such a big deal, anyway?”

            “It’s not,” Jamie mutters and rubs the back of his neck, and even though Mako doesn’t know Jamie that well yet, he can tell that Jamie is lying through his teeth.

            “It’s not? Then why the fuck are you howling about it like that?”

            “Okay, it _is_ a big deal!” Jamie huffs and crosses his spindly arms over his chest (which is still bare, Mako notices). “I just—I’ve never met another trans man.”

            “You’ve never…? How?”

            “I don’t get out much,” Jamie says, chewing at his bottom lip. “Or at all really. Got kind of a single track mind thing going on here, heh. Only room for music right now. I mean, I knew I wasn’t the only trans guy out there, but—well, y’know.” He shrugs.

            Mako doesn’t really know what to say to that. He’s not exactly great with these things, feelings, and he and Jamie don’t even know each other that well. Well, they certainly know each other better now than they did five minutes ago, but still…

            “Alright, so the band is now called The Fish Sticks,” Mako grunts, awkwardly trying to change the subject. Jamie thankfully seems to be more than willing to go back to their original conversation, because he grins and nods as he draws the half-smoked spliff out from behind his ear.

            “A couple of puffs to celebrate, yeah?” he suggests, waving the joint under Mako’s nose with a sly smirk. “And then back to work. I think I might’ve committed some actual song lyrics to paper last night.”

            “You think?” Mako snorts as he snatches the joint from Jamie and sits down to light it.

            “Well, I was stoned out of me mind, wasn’t I?” Jamie grins, watching closely as Mako lights up and sucks a deep drag. The smoke burns his throat and lungs for a moment, and Mako coughs once before exhaling a large, white cloud of smoke. God, he hasn’t smoked this much since he was a teenager, and he has missed it. He hands the spliff back to Jamie.

            “Alright, so what’s the song about?” he asks, stretching in the chair with a satisfied groan.

            “Something stupid,” Jamie hums before taking a drag. He inhales, holds and then exhales the smoke, blinking at Mako through it. “Toast, I think.”

            “Toast,” Mako deadpans.

            “Yeah, I distinctly remember eating toast while I was writing it,” Jamie replies thoughtfully as if writing a song about toast is perfectly normal.

            The song, as it turns out, is not about toast, but ghost. Jamie likes the toast idea better, though, so he changes all the instances of “ghost” to “toast”, which causes the lyrics to sound like absolute nonsense. They spend about half an hour laughing until they weep before they finally get themselves together and start working on the melody. But they’re just too stoned to be serious about anything, and Jamie spends most of his time flipping out on his guitar while Mako slams away at the drums, trying to follow the non-existing rhythm Jamie is setting. Despite being too stoned to work and just fucking around on their instruments, they actually do manage to mince out something that sounds like a song. It doesn’t really have a chorus or a bridge, though, but in some way, that feels perfect for them; their lives haven’t exactly been clear-cut or straight and narrow either, so it would be weird if their music was.

            “…sick of this toast town and this toast life! Wanna be a king with a toast crown and a toast wife!” Jamie sings into the microphone in his strange, wailing singing voice that’s just off-key enough to be weird, but not off-key enough to actually sound terrible. He hits the last cord and lets it vibrate out into the room to the last thud from Mako’s bass drum. They glance at each other—Mako’s hair has come loose from the bun, and it’s sticking to his sweat forehead, and Jamie’s large glasses are foggy and askew—and grin before Jamie clicks the remote and turns off the recording.

            “That was ace, mate! Brilliant!” Jamie says as he walks over and slams a flat hand against one of Mako’s cymbals. He winces in pain and rubs his hand, but he’s still grinning. “Shit, I feel like I’m high it was so good!”

            “You _are_ high, you dingbat,” Mako snorts and brushes the grey strands away from his sweaty forehead.

            “Oh, right,” Jamie snickers and claps a hand to his forehead, nearly knocking off his own glasses in the process. He swears and adjusts them. “Anyway, this’ll be our big hit, Mako, I just know it.”

            “So you want to submit this song to the Battle of the Bands thing then?”

            “Shit, I’d forgotten about that! Yeah! Yes, this’ll win us the title and shove it to my old band mates,” Jamie hums with a wide, satisfied smile like he’s already imagining their disappointed faces.

            Mako just watches Jamie; he’s such a strange kid, and Mako likes him a lot even though he can be really infuriating sometimes. Well—Mako’s shakes his head a bit and looks down at the drumsticks in his big hands—he doesn’t _like_ Jamie, he just… finds him funny, that’s all.

            They work on the song for the rest of the day, changing things here and there, but mostly just play it over and over again until they know it completely by heart. Mako has no idea how long they’ve been at it, but the sun has gone down and his stomach is rumbling painfully by the time they finally decide to stop for the day. Mako’s hands are sore, but at least they have stopped blistering and instead developed calloused skin in the spots where he used to get blisters. It’s the just price you pay as a drummer.

            “I think I gotta head home,” Mako grunts, pushing to his feet and stretching again, twisting his head to crack his neck. He digs his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It’s 11:43. “It’s getting late.”

            “Already?” Jamie looks severely disappointed as he unhooks the guitar strap and puts the guitar back in its stand.

            “Yeah, I gotta work tomorrow,” Mako says with a very unenthused sigh. He likes the job fine enough, but he’d much rather stay and keep playing.

            “Don’tcha dare leave before you’ve had the mandatory huzzah-we-wrote-our-first-song beer!”

            Mako eyes Jamie, and Jamie eyes him back until Mako huffs a soft laugh and grunts, “Yeah, okay.”

            By the time they step onto the deck, Jamie carrying a bucket of ice and beers, Mako already knows it’s not just going to be one beer, and it wouldn’t have been just one beer even if Jamie hadn’t ordered dinner for them and they hadn’t had to wait for it. Mako, whose resolve is usually pretty strong, apparently has zero resolve when it comes to Jamie, and especially when it comes to Jamie and alcohol and/or weed. He’s not sure it’s a good thing, but Jamie seems to be capable of talking Mako into doing just about anything, and Mako isn’t even that upset about it. They sit down on the deck, feet dipping in the pool and the bucket with ice and beers between them, and Mako leans back as he watches Jamie opening beers for the both of them. The sea is dark and calm, and the only light there is the dim light coming from the house behind them. The firmament stretches on over their heads, and the stars dot the dark skies like tiny pinpricks of white paint on a black canvas. The air is nice and warm even with the breeze coming in from the sea, and Mako can’t honestly picture anywhere he’d rather be right now.

            “Here, mate,” Jamie hums as he hands Mako an ice cold beer, and they clink the cans together before falling silent as they drink and watch the dark sea.

            “D’you ever skinny dip?” Jamie asks out of the blue a couple of minutes later.

            “Uh, I don’t think so,” Mako replies, shifting a bit and putting down his empty beer can to open a new one. “Not in the habit of getting naked in public places.”

            Jamie just looks at his with a wide smile and says nothing. Mako shifts a bit again, not really sure, and it’s not until Jamie wriggles his brushy brows that Mako realizes what he’s getting at.

            “No bloody way, mate,” Mako says, shaking his head and downing a gulp of beer. “No way.”

            “Aww, why not?” Jamie pleads with a wicked grin. “I bet the water’s probably perfect, and no one’ll see us! It’s a private beach. Just two blokes having a dip together with no pants on.”

            “No. Nope. Not gonna happen,” Mako grunts, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head again.

            “What’ll it take?” Jamie asks him, and Mako is kind of taken aback. “I mean, I’m getting naked, too, mate. S’not like you’d be all on your own.”

            “Forget about it.”

            Jamie sighs dramatically, the grins and helps himself to another beer. “Fair enough.”

Mako is glad that Jamie doesn’t push the matter further, but he should really have known better; not about Jamie, because Jamie doesn’t bother him about the issue anymore, but rather about Mako himself. The more beer they drink, and the later it gets, Mako’s urge to go swimming in those soft, welcoming waves, builds and builds until it’s all but physically impossible for him to ignore it. It doesn’t help that he’s kind of drunk and kind of stoned, or that the weather is slowly getting warmer and warmer as they get closer to sunrise. At one point—probably around 4AM?—Jamie huffs and gets to his feet.

            “Sorry, mate, but I’mma do it,” he says before tugging his t-shirt over his head. Jamie is skinny enough that Mako is kind of worried that he might break from the mere weight of Mako’s gaze on him, but that doesn’t stop Mako from looking. Jamie’s translucent skin looks almost phosphorescent in the dark, or maybe Mako is just so fucked up that he’s seeing things (wouldn’t be the first time), but Jamie is definitely getting naked, and Mako is trying not to watch him, but even he’s failing spectacularly. Okay, maybe he’s not really trying, but he’s definitely telling himself that he shouldn’t be looking. Jamie doesn’t seem to notice or care if he’s being watched, because he just happily hums their new song to himself as he tosses the t-shirt over his shoulder and then begins to fumble with the button and zipper of his cargo shorts. The scars on Jamie’s narrow chest are still pretty fresh-looking and visible even in the semi-darkness; Mako has never asked Jamie about his transition or when he started it, but it doesn’t really feel like something he can ask. It’s deeply personal, and Mako feels nosy for even thinking about asking Jamie about it. He doesn’t think about it too much longer, anyway, because Jamie has gotten his shorts open and is shimmying out of them. He kicks them off. Underneath the shorts, Jamie is wearing black Y-fronts, and it’s not until he turns around to face the sea that Mako notices that there’s a large yellow smiley face on the back of them, grinning slightly maniacally at him. Mako is about to comment when Jamie hooks his fingers under the waistband and pulls them down. Mako just has time to see the top half of Jamie’s ass before he has to turn his head away—it just feels too weird to sit and watch his band mate get naked like this.

            “Sure you don’t wanna join, eh?” Jamie asks him, forcing Mako to look back. Mako keeps his gaze firmly directed at Jamie’s face, though, as he vigorously shakes his head no.

            “Hm, your loss,” Jamie says with a shrug. “C’mon, mate, help me get down there.”

            “What? Why?” Mako is struggling to keep his gaze locked on Jamie’s face when Jamie’s blond happy trail is teasing him from the edge of his peripheral vision.

            “Can’t use me leg in the sand, can I?” Jamie snorts and points at his prosthetic leg. “It’ll sink right in. Help me out, yeah, there’s a good boy.”

            Mako isn’t sure he likes being called “a good boy” by a kid who’s half his age, but he doesn’t want Jamie to have to try and hop down the beach on one leg and possibly injure himself, so he groans and gets up, still refusing to look anywhere but Jamie’s face.

            “Fine,” he grunts and offers Jamie his hand. Jamie is fiddling with the clasps on his leg, and a moment later he can take it off and put it down next to the pool along with his specs. He takes Mako’s hand, but instead of just holding it, he wraps Mako’s arm around his waist, placing Mako’s hand on his skinny hip.

            “Off we go!” he grins. “Bring the beers, too, will ya?”

            Mako huffs and grabs the beer bucket with his free hand before leading the way across the deck and down the couple of steps to the beach itself. The sand is still nice and warm from having the sun on it all day. It’s very fine and instantly gets between Mako’s toes in his flip-flops as they walk over it. Jamie is hopping along next to Mako, supporting himself against Mako’s shoulder.

            “Alright, I can go from here,” Jamie says when they get closer to the sea. The sand is firmer here, and the waves are lazily rolling over it, keeping it wet and more compact. “You’ll hang around, yeah?”

            “Yeah, fine,” Mako hums and releases Jamie. He sits down where the sand is still dry and kicks off his flip-flops to stretch his legs out and dig his toes into the cool wet sand. He shoves the bucket of beer into the sand and opens a fresh one as he watches Jamie hoppling into the waves. It takes Mako a moment to realize that he has just broken his own rule of only looking at Jamie’s face, because his gaze is very firmly directed at Jamie’s ass. Mako is just about to mentally scold himself and look away, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. Seriously, if Jamie isn’t comfortable at being looked at, he wouldn’t prance around naked, would he? Besides, Mako is only looking a bit. No harm in that, right? Right.

            Mako takes a gulp from his beer and keeps watching. Jamie is hopping with surprising agility into the waves. His long, slender body is instantly engulfed in the dark water, and Jamie’s head, bobbing around over the rolling waves, lets out a high-pitched squeal.

            “Fuck me, it’s cold!” he laughs, then takes a deep breath and dunks his head under as well. He emerges a sec later, the usually puffy hair now cascading wet over his ears and face. He laughs and lifts his arms splashing around and waving at Mako.

            “C’mon, mate, it’s brilliant! You won’t regret it!”

            Mako sighs and downs the rest of his beer. The beach is big and empty; there are houses all the way down the coast, but Mako can’t see a single lit window in either direction he looks in. It really does seem like they’re the only ones awake right now. He sighs again. Fuck it.

            “Fine!” he calls and pushes to his feet to the sound of Jamie cheering and splashing around in the water. “But I’m keeping my boxers on!”

            “Whatever gets you in the water!” Jamie simply laughs and dives under the waves again.

            Mako scratches the back of his neck, and takes another look around. They really are all alone. He rubs over his face, then sighs and pulls his t-shirt over his head, dumping it on the sand. He hesitates, but grunts determinedly as he tugs the front of his shorts open so he can push them down and step out of them. It has been quite a while since he has been this bare anywhere but in his bathroom or bedroom, and he shudders a bit as the night breeze brushes over his exposed belly. It’s only going to get colder if he keeps standing here, so there’s nothing for it; it’s into the waves he go! Mako holds his breath as he strides over the wet sand. The waves wash over his feet—nice and not as cold as he’d imagined—and when the water reaches his hips, Mako gets himself together and dives under.

            Everything goes blissfully quiet, and for a moment all Mako can hear is his own heartbeat. The gentle murmur of the waves returns when Mako reemerges. He stumbles a bit, trying to find his footing while rubbing the water out of his eyes. He had been expecting Jamie’s laughing to reappear, too, but he can only hear the sound of the water. He opens his eyes, blinking as water trickles down his face, and he has time to get nervous for just a second before his eyes finally focus and the first thing he sees is Jamie’s face just a few inches from him own.

            “Fuck!” Mako yelps, and he jerks backwards. His feet slip, causing him to lose his footing and go under with a howl and a splash. When he comes back up again, he’s coughing and spluttering. His long hair has come loose from the ponytail and is covering his eyes. This time he can very clearly hear Jamie laughing, and he spits and curses loudly.

            “I’m sorry!” Jamie hiccups, and he tries to push the wet hair out of Mako’s eyes. “Mate, I’m so sorry, but I just couldn’t help meself.”

            “Cock,” Mako huffs with a half smirk and plants a big hand in the middle of Jamie’s face to push him backwards into the water. Jamie yelps and splutters as he goes down, but he come back up again a second later, laughing and coughing.

            “Revenge!” he screeches, and a moment later they’re both locked in fierce combat, splashing water at each other and trying to pull each other under. They somehow end up in a strange wrestling match there Jamie is trying to climb onto Mako’s shoulders, and Mako is trying to pull Jamie off by his ankle and shove him under. None of them really succeed, because they’re both laughing so hard that their muscles go weak and useless, and they eventually end up in a weird sort-of embrace with Jamie half thrown over Mako’s left shoulder, squirming and wriggling like an eel. It’s not until Mako glances sideways and sees Jamie’s bare ass that he remembers that Jamie is stark naked. Clearing his throat and hoping the semi-darkness and his dark skin will hide his blush, Mako shoves Jamie off his shoulder and mutters something about being cold and wanting to get out of the water. He doesn’t look at Jamie as he wades towards the beach, but he can hear Jamie splash along behind him.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaa! The ending was a bit abrupt, I know, but I was veering off into a different direction than I had originally intended, and I didn't want this chapter to suddenly need another 2 - 3k to get done, so...!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it :) The next updated fic will be Superannuated!


	3. Dope Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't buy drugs. Become a rockstar and they give them to you for free!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, guys! Thanks to everyone who's supported this little fic :) I've very much enjoyed writing it, and I hope you will enjoy reading it!

*

 

Mako doesn’t look at Jamie at all until they’re back in the house, and he honestly feel a little bad about it, because when he finally does turn his head to look at Jamie as they enter the house through the large sliding glass door on the deck, he sees that Jamie is more or less blue all over. His lips are especially blue, and he’s shivering and trembling hard enough to make his teeth clatter.

          “Fuck, I’m frozen solid,” he grins, wrapping his spindly arms around himself as he hurries to the bathroom to find towels. He comes back a moment later with two big, fluffy ones and tosses one to Mako.

          “No shit, you have zero body fat,” Mako grunts as he drapes the towel over his head to dry his hair.

          Jamie just snickers and wraps his towel tightly around himself, squirming and rubbing his arms to try and get warm again. It feels a bit weird to stand here, both of them more or less naked (Jamie being more, Mako being less), and suddenly Mako doesn't know what to say or where to look. Jamie is thankfully busy with trying to warm himself up, and he doesn't seem to notice that Mako has no idea what to do with his hands. Instead of just standing around and watching Jamie trying to get warm, Mako finally decides to do something useful. He wraps the towel around his waist and eases his wet boxers off. They're dripping water all over the floor, and he hurries to the kitchen where he can hold them over the sink as he wring the water out of them. It's not that long since he was last naked in someone else's house, but this feels strangely different, and Mako can't quite figure out why. Maybe it's just because Jamie is such a weird guy? Mako snorts softly to himself as he hangs the boxers over the handle of the oven to dry, then opens the fridge to find something to drink. It seems completely and utterly impossible, but Jamie has actually run out of beer. They have been playing so intensely over the last couple of days that Jamie must have forgotten to refill. Mako sighs. He's really not into those brightly-colored vodka/soda drinks, but from the way Jamie's voice is trembling (he's singing their new toast song loudly), Mako can tell that the poor kid must be freezing to death, and some alcohol would warm him right up. Mako sighs again before he finally gets out two bottles of the sugary booze; he's never going to make it into work tomorrow, and he's already been late a couple of times this week thanks to Jamie and their jamming sessions. He's really too old to act like this, Mako tells himself as he shuts the fridge door and wanders back into the living room where Jamie is curled up on his bean bag.

          "Here," Mako grunts and hands Jamie a bottle. "You're out of beer."

          "Yikes!" Jamie grins and happily accepts the soda drink. He opens it and takes a large gulps, swallows, then burps loudly and snickers. "Better than nothing, right?"

          "Right." Mako sits down on his own bean bag that Jamie had insisted on getting him, adjusting the towel around his waist a bit. Sitting in a bean bag chair wearing nothing but a towel isn't exactly the most comfortable thing in the world—it's the fact that it's hard to keep everything hidden that bothers Mako the most. If he'd been fucking Jamie, Mako wouldn't have cared about showing off, but as it is… Mako hurries to take a swig from his own bottle of sugary devilry. It tastes of awful, synthetic pineapple, and Mako actually considers spitting it out for a split-second before he swallows. Jamie is fiddling with something, and his towel is slipping down, and Mako stares very pointedly down at the bottle in his hand before taking another gulp, decidedly _not_ looking in Jamie's direction. He doesn't really mean to drink this so fast, but it happens anyway, and Mako hurries to get up and go to the kitchen to get more while Jamie seems to still be blissfully unaware of the fact that his towel is no longer covering his vital parts—or maybe he just doesn't care. It certainly seems to be the latter, because when Mako returns from the kitchen a moment later, Jamie is standing up, the towel in a small heap on the floor, and he's facing Mako, and there is nothing Mako can do to shield himself from seeing everything he's been trying to avoid seeing all night.

          "Hey, I found me vaporizer, mate!" Jamie says happily, waving a black pen in his hand. "We can play Killing Floor and get high if yer up for it? Mako? Hello?"

          Mako only absorbs a very small percentage of what Jamie is saying, because he is mightily distracted by the fact that Jamie has the biggest T dick he's ever seen. They come in all shapes and sizes, just like every other dick, and Mako doesn't have a preference, but holy shit, Jamie is the most hung trans guy Mako has ever seen. Mako's not a size queen—right? He's pretty sure he didn't use to be a size queen, but what he is witnessing right now is making him seriously doubt this.

          "Enjoying the view?"

          Mako snaps back to reality with the horrible realization that Jamie has just caught him staring at his dick, and Mako is pretty sure that if he had the ability to turn pink, his face would be bright pink right now, because it's burning up.

          "Er," he says stupidly and hurries to look away. "Sorry."

          "No, no, s'fine," Jamie grins and shrugs. "Hey, want some?"

          Mako is very confused for a moment until Jamie waves the device at Mako again. Mako almost laughs with relief and snatches it with his free hand just to do _something_. At first he thinks that Jamie is playing a prank on him, because whatever it is that he inhales from the little tube, it doesn't taste anything like weed. It tastes a lot more like blueberries or something like that, but then he tastes it a second or two after he exhales. It's good, really good, and Mako takes quickly takes another drag. It usually takes him a couple of really good drags of some really good weed before he'll feel it, but whatever this stuff is, it kicks like mule, and Mako hurries to sit down in his bean bag chair, because the room has started to spin a little already.

          "Brilliant, eh?" Jamie asks, snickering as he sits down in his chair as well—still butt naked, by the way—and grabs two controllers. He hands one of them to Mako.

          "Yeah," Mako mumbles and takes a swig of the sugary booze as if that might help instead of doing the exact opposite of helping. He's feels… what, giddy? Mako is pretty sure he hasn't felt giddy in at least 20 years, and although it's slightly disturbing, it's also a sort of good feeling. Jamie looks like he's feeling giddy, too, because his cheeks are pink under his freckles, and he's tonguing the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on setting the game up.

          Mako has no idea how he has ended up here—okay, maybe if he tried really, really hard he'd remember—but he honestly doesn't care very much right now. There was weed and zombies, and he and Jamie were naked, and now they're here, lying and facing each other on Jamie's massive bed. They're both drunk and stoned out of their minds. Oh, and they're still naked. Aren't they? Mako looks down, and yup, they're both still naked. Jamie is hard, and he's grinning at Mako, shifting a bit on the bed.

          "Whoops?" he says even as he's grabbing Mako's large hand and guiding down between his thighs. His grip is loose, probably to let Mako pull his hand away if he wants to, but Mako doesn't want to. Mako wants to touch, and he does so; Shirley Manson is singing about being happy in bad weather as Mako shoves his hand between Jamie's thighs, nudging them slightly apart so he could cup Jamie's sex and press the heel of his palm against his cock. Jamie is giggling and purring, and his eyes are closing as he rolls his hips and grind against Mako's big hand, his glasses crooked on his pointy nose. And then they're kissing, and Jamie's kisses are just as chaotic and twitchy as the rest of him; despite his being a lot smaller than Mako, it feels like he's everywhere at once. He's kissing Mako, he's pinching Mako's nipples, he's humping Mako's leg, he's sucking Mako's dick… It's almost overwhelming, exactly as it should be.

          Mako wakes up with a healthy portion of regret and self-loathing the next morning. The bed is empty and the window is open, and for a panicky moment, Mako thinks that Jamie has split and jumped out the window. But the fresh sea breeze that’s streaming through the window makes him realize that of course Jamie wouldn’t flee his own house, and wasn’t this whole thing Jamie’s idea to begin with? Hadn’t he been the one who had looked at Mako and asked if he wanted to fuck? Well, yes, but Mako had agreed to it, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even been that wasted, so he can’t even use that as an excuse.

          The bed is warm, and Mako doesn’t really want to leave it, but there’s something other than the salty sea air filling the room; it’s the smell of breakfast, and Mako’s stomach rumbles, so eventually he drags himself out of the gigantic bed. He finds his boxers hanging over the back of a chair, and as he puts them on, he almost stumbles over Jamie’s large, ridiculously pink strap-on on the floor. It instantly makes a bouquet of memories from last night blossom in Mako’s head, and he can’t help but smile a bit to himself. Mako may be the more experienced of the two of them, but Jamie sure does know what he’s doing in bed. Mako hadn’t expected to be surprised by this kid, but he had been surprised, pleasantly so. He’s even tempted to pick up the latex dick and smell it to test if he can still smell himself on it. But no, that would be weird and kind of gross, and Mako is still hungry.

          “Wanna be a king with a toast crown and a toast wife…”

          Jamie is humming when Mako enters the kitchen, and apparently he didn’t think that clothes would be a good idea yet, because he’s just as butt naked as he were last night. There are still a couple of faded red lines around his hips where the harness has rubbed against his pale skin—things got pretty wild at the end there. Now that he thinks on it, Mako is a bit sore down there, too, and he hisses softly in pain as he sits down by the kitchen counter. Jamie turns and beams at him.

          “Morning!” he says happily and waves a fork around. There’s a frying pan on the stove behind him. The room smells like bacon.

          “Morning,” Mako hums, rubbing over his face and yawning, and he totally forgets to regret what happened last night, because honestly? It was really good, and Jamie doesn’t seem to be awkward about it, so Mako doesn’t want to be awkward either.

          “I’m making brekkie,” Jamie informs him, turning around to flip the bacon on the pan with the fork.

          “I can tell,” Mako grunts, and he’s unable to stop himself from eyeing Jamie’s freckled ass. “Pretty brave of you to be doing that naked, though.”

          “Brave? Why is that br— _ow, fuck!_ ”

          “That’s why.”

          Jamie howls and jumps backwards when the bacon splutters and a spurt of sizzling hot fat splatters on his bare belly. Mako is on his feet in a second and yanking the freezer open to grab an ice cube (chuckling because he’s an asshole like that).

          “Hold still,” he tells Jamie who’s dancing around and whimpering in pain. He grabs Jamie by the hip with one hand before leaning down to press the ice against the small burn. Jamie groans and hisses, but he stops moving and just looks down, watching as the ice cube slowly melts against his warm skin.

          “Thanks, mate,” he says, petting Mako’s bedhead hair. “Reckon you were right about the nude cooking.”

          “I’m right about most things,” Mako hums, rubbing the ice in slow, gentle circles over the burn.

          “That so?” Jamie snorts.

          “Yeah.”

          “Best keep that in mind then.”

          “Yeah.”

          They grin at each other, and Mako is very tempted to lean further down and suck Jamie off since his dick is right there, but the stink of burning bacon and the loud screeching of the smoke detector interrupt their little moment. It takes a lot of opening every single window in the house and waving around with their towels before the house no longer smells like charred pork strips. They try to eat the sad remains they managed to somewhat save, but in the end, they decide to go out instead. There’s only so much pain they’re willing to go through for bacon, they agree.

          “We need more songs if we’re gonna win Battle of the Bands,” Mako says over their greasy bacon sandwiches a little time later. They’re sitting on the pier, feet dangling over the water—well, ‘foot’ in Jamie’s case, because he has taken his leg off just in case a mad sea lion feels like stealing it (apparently he’s once seen a video online of that exact thing happening).

          “Right,” Jamie says, wriggling his toes and chewing thoughtfully on his mouthful of enough saturated fat to floor an elephant. “What other breakfast meals can you think of?”

          “What?”

          “Oh, y’know, since our first song is about toast, I figured we should stick to a theme,” Jamie explains and grins. “Maybe like…” He screws up his face in concentration. “Oatmeal. Oats. Like… Look at me in my oat boat, feeling fancy in my oat coat, hiding behind my oat moat. Think I’m gonna drink me an oat float.”

          Mako can’t help but snort.

          “That’s disgusting,” he says, and Jamie laughs.

          “Hey, don’t judge me love of oats, mate!” He winks at Mako, and because Mako has apparently leapt back in time to when he was 12 years old, his cheeks go a little warm.

 

*

 

It has been almost four months since Mako woke up sore in Jamie’s bed, and he’s been waking up sore in it a good number of times since then. He has practically moved into Jamie’s house at this point, and he only goes back to his apartment to check his mail or pick up clothes. Mako remembers thinking it was strange for bands to be living in the same house, but he has to admit now that it’s so much easier; they can stay up to sunrise practicing and jamming and they don’t have to worry about trying to figure out when to meet. And fucking is so much easier when they’re around each other all the time…

          It comes at him from a distance and it slowly but surely bores into his brain like an insect. He doesn’t react at first, merely twitches, but as the screeching keeps on going, Mako very, very slowly surfaces from his dreams and forces his eyes open. What’s going on? Why is his heart racing? Mako scratches his stubbly cheek and tosses over, almost crushing Jamie, as he reaches for his phone on the floor next to the bed.

          “Fuck!”

          Jamie jerks and pokes his head up from the mess of sheets and blankets. His hair looks ridiculous.

          “Mm’what? Where’s the fire, mate?”

          “It’s 8:30! We’re supposed to be checking in at the venue in half an hour!” Mako breathes, already halfway into his jeans, one shoe on his left foot. Even as he stumbles and almost falls on his ass, Mako has time and focus enough to appreciate the fact that he has never seen Jamie move this fast before; he’s out of the bed and dressed in what seems like seconds, and for a moment, Mako thinks they might actually make it. Then he remembers that they haven’t even loaded the van yet.

          “No.”

          “What d’you mean ‘no’?” Jamie’s face and the tips of his ears turn pink. “C’mon, mate, we’re only…” he checks his phone and his face falls a bit “74 minutes late!”

          The guy with the clipboard just shrugs and shakes his head.

          “Sorry, man, rules are rules, okay? All the bands have to be checked in by 9 AM, so we can finish the lineup and do rehearsals and sound checks.”

          “Do us a favor, eh?” Jamie does his very best impression of a sad puppy, and his glasses magnify his eyes for maximum effect. The guy seems to be more of a cat person, though, because it clearly doesn’t work on him.

          “No can do, mate,” he sighs and lights a cigarette. “The other bands’d be spewin’ if we admit you. Sorry.” He puffs on his smoke, then leaves, leaving Jamie and Mako staring after him like idiots.

          “Cunt,” Jamie grunts and kicks at a crumbled ball of paper on the floor before stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning to look at Mako. Jamie has never been hard to read, and it’s painfully obvious that he’s beyond disappointed. Mako doesn’t really know what to say. He’s disappointed, too, but this obviously meant a great deal more to Jamie than it did to Mako, and Mako almost can’t stomach to see him that down. He wants to say something encouraging, but he honestly can’t think of anything. Sure, they could sign up next year, but it was never being in the competition for Jamie; it was about beating the assholes in his former band, and they might not even be there next year. Things don’t get any better when those very assholes come passing through the lobby Jamie and Mako are in a moment. Mako doesn’t know who they are until one of them, most likely the lead singer judging from the way he keeps adjusting his hair, calls at them.

          “Oi Sarah, is that you?”

          Mako has no idea who the guy is talking to until he points at Jamie.

          “Wow, you look even uglier than last time I saw you. Guess money really can’t buy everything, huh?”

          Jamie’s cheeks go even pinker, and his expression darkens.

          “Shut your mouth, Jax, or I’ll give you a gobful,” he growls, hands clenching into fists by his hips.

          Jax just grins and holds up his hands in mock fear.

          “Oooh, like I’m real scared of being punched by a sheila,” he snorts maliciously, and the two bandmates behind him giggle.

          “C’mere, you fucking—!” Jamie snarls, lurching himself at Jax, who actually looks scared for a second as he jumps a step back. Mako grabs Jamie, though, holding him back even though the thought of beating Jax to a bloody pulp is immensely satisfying.

          “Hey, Jamie, it’s not worth it,” Mako barks even though he feels like it just might be worth it.

          Jax laughs a little nervously, looking at his bandmates for support.

          “Yeah, listen to the fat cunt,” he says, his mouth twisting in disgust. “Is that your boyfriend? I’d call you a faggot, but you’d have to be a _real_ man to be a faggot, wouldn’t you? Not some kind of dickless freak like—!”

          Jax doesn’t have time to elaborate on exactly what kind of dickless freak Jamie is, because Jamie and Mako have both thrown themselves at him, which apparently takes Jax by surprise, because he doesn’t jump back or try to ward them off. Jamie gets him first, connecting his foot to Jax’s balls with a well-aimed kick. He doubles over just in time for Mako to punch him right in his face. Everything is suddenly a flurry of shouting and limbs as Jax’ bandmates jump into the fight.

          “ _Oi!_ Oi, what the fuck?!”

          It takes the man with the clipboard (who turns out to be the manager) and three stagehands to separate them from Jax and his band. Jamie has a split lip, one lens in his glasses is cracked, and his Pearl Jam t-shirt is ripped. Mako doesn’t feel like he’s bleeding anywhere, but his knuckles hurt. Thankfully, though, Jax and his mates look just as bad; Jax’ nose is crooked and bleeding and his left eye is increasingly black and puffy with every passing second. The two bandmates are sporting bleeding cuts and bruises, too.

          “What the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing?!” the manager roars at them, his face flushed bright red.

          “Those wankers fucking attacked us!” Jax whines, pointing at Jamie and Mako, and Mako feels an almost uncontrollable urge to grab his finger and break it, but he doesn’t. Instead he’s about to open his mouth to defend himself and Jamie when the manager beats him to it.

          “I’m not talking to them, I’m talking to you, you dickweed!” he bellows. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to him like that?” He points to Jamie.

          Jax and his mates look so surprised at this that they apparently can’t think of anything to say, because they just gawk at the manager like morons.

          “There’s a zero tolerance policy for bigotry at this place, mate,” the manager barks at Jax. “You and your little pissflap friends are out. For life. I never want to see you around here again.”

          “But—!” Jax begins, but the manager just shakes his head.

          “Drop it, bellend. I’ve heard your rehearsal and your music’s shit anyway. Out right now or I’m having security help you.”

          Jax looks outraged, and he spits and barks an insult at his mates when they try to help him walk. The manager just huffs and turns his back on them.

          “Guess what, lads!” he says loudly enough for Jax and his mates to hear as they’re leaving. “A spot in the lineup just opened up. Interested in filling it?”

          “R-really?” Jamie breathes as he adjusts his crooked glasses and wipes the blood off his chin with the back of his hand.

          “Yeah, a kick like that deserves a reward,” the manager chuckles and makes a few notes on his clipboard. “You’re the fifth act, and you’ll go on around 9 tonight, okay?”

          “Yeah,” Jamie says, still sounding pretty breathless, and he glances at Mako, beaming like a goddamn ray of sunshine. Mako feels an incredible urge to pick Jamie up and kiss him right then and there, but the manager is already fussing over them to get their gear inside so they can do their sound check. Jamie and Mako are both so elated that the rest of the day passes in a sort of blur, and it doesn’t even matter that they don’t win the contest. They’re placed fourth against some really excellent bands, but they end up winning a special prize for most creative lyrics, and the manager comes up to them afterwards and hires them to the following month at a small festival for up and coming bands.

          Mako feels slightly lightheaded from everything that’s happened by the time they’re finally back at Jamie’s place. They’re in the pool out of the deck, both hanging off the edge to watch the run slowly rise over the sea, both happy and high as kites. Mako honestly can’t remember the last time he had a better day. He’s not even sure he’s ever had one that was better. Jamie is smiling at him as he passes him the blunt, blowing a couple of smoke rings into the quiet morning air.

          “Thanks, mate,” he then says, moving to float a little closer to Mako so he can lean against Mako’s side.

          “For what?” Mako hums around a small cough as he exhales a cloud of smoke.

          “For defending me honor,” Jamie grins and nudges his pointy nose against Mako’s jaw. “That was real nice of you.”

          “Don’t mention it,” Mako grunts, sliding an arm around Jamie to tug him in closer. “I’ve met a lot of twats like Jax in my life, and I’ve always wanted to kick their teeth in, but I never did it. When he started saying that shit to you… I couldn’t not hit him.”

          “He’s always been a cunt,” Jamie mutters, fingers drawing nonsense patterns over Mako’s chest. “Just didn’t realize just how big of a cunt he was until I came out.”

          “Sorry.”

          “Eh.” Jamie shrugs. “He’s a loser, and life’s too short to dwell on losers.”

          “Too right,” Mako replies and smiles.

          “‘Sides, I’ve got me big, bad bodyguard now, haven’t I?” Jamie purrs, and he squirms a little against Mako’s side.

          “Mh,” Mako hums, sliding his hand a bit lower to grab Jamie’s ass. “Know what this big, bad bodyguard needs now?”

          “A big, bad bumming?”

          “You got it, boss.”

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, guys! This last chapter was very satisfying to write.
> 
> I have a couple of new fics in the works, and if you want to stay updated on those, you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
